Your Only Hope
by d r a m a t i s . e c h o
Summary: A short one-shot between Moriarty/Molly before and after the 'Baker Street Christmas Party'. Slight spoiler for Episode 1/Season 2, so if you haven't seen it, you might not want to read.


"I'm torn, luv."

Molly shifted uncomfortably in her seat as her eyes tentatively raised up toward Jim. He sat across from her in the sleek, luxury car; a playful grin on his face, paired with the usual undertone of malicious intent present in his eyes. Whether Molly chose not to notice, or simply _failed_ to, was anyone's guess.

"I can't decide whether to pity you, or laugh myself silly." The Irish brunette mused. His round eyes focused on the mousy girl, as she awkwardly shifted her bags in hand. "You honestly think Sherlock will be... 'receptive'... to your affections, simply because it's _Christmas_?" He asked.

Molly tried to straighten her posture. "W-Well, it's... a pleasant time of year." She shrugged. "A time to tell people how you feel. I... I know Sherlock is a little-" She paused, as if trying to find a polite term, "Stand-offish... But he wouldn't hurt my feelings. Not when I give him his gift." She smiled.

Jim huffed dramatically.

"Oh it's _tragic_." The consulting criminal shook his head. "But you'll see. You'll realize." Jim straightened his coat. "Sherlock Holmes doesn't care about you, Molly Hooper, and he never will." He smiled warmly. "And when you realize that – tonight – I will be here. And _you_ will keep your promise."

Molly met Jim's eyes dead on, for the first time since he'd picked her up. They were so rich in color; so sharp and focused. They reminded her so much of Sherlock's gaze only... deeper. Deep and drowning instead of frigid and icy. Penetrating. Like he knew sides of her that she didn't even know herself.

"221b Baker Street." Jim announced slyly as the car stopped. "Shall I wait here?"

Opening the door, Molly stepped out (slightly uneven on her footing; heels were still something she needed a bit of practice walking in) and clutched her bags in hand. "Only if you want to. I don't think there'll be a need." She blushed.

"Seven minutes." He muttered.

Molly frowned, but tried to hold her smile in place. "I... s-sorry?"

"Seven minutes." Jim sighed, giving her a once-over in pity. "I'll be waiting."

The young woman laughed uncomfortably, before closing the door. She turned to gaze up at 221b Baker Street. It was nicely decorated, and the falling snow made the scene quite picture-esq. Taking a deep breath and steeling herself, Molly headed through the door.

_Tonight would be different._

She could give Sherlock her gift, and while the others chatted and drank in cheer for the holidays, she would pull him aside, and tell the consulting detective exactly how she felt. She would explain she didn't think he was a freak; that she knew he was a genius, and while a bit 'inexperienced' when it came to social conduct... she was ok with it. She knew there was a heart in there somewhere, and Molly was determined to coax it out. After all, she examined hearts and bodies for a living. Surely she should be able to unravel the shroud that floated around Sherlock's heart...

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><p>Jim could only smirk in gleeful anticipation when he heard the car door open. Molly slipped right back into her previous seat. Her coat was on, but not properly done up – indicating a rather hasty, or sneaky exit. She no longer had her bag of gifts, and the expression on her face was rather forlorn. Confused. Hurt. Lost.<p>

"_Five_ minutes. Well. He's even colder than I expected." That familiar, bemused Irish lilt wafted through the car as they pulled away from the curb of Baker Street. "I can only assume it took him less than **two** minutes to hone in on your dress, your makeup; your eager, hopeful disposition and the 'special gift' at the top of your bag." Jim deducted lazily, glancing out the window at the multitude of glittering Christmas lights that decorated the festive streets. "Which means it only took Sherlock** three** minutes to... systematically... dismantle... any flittering hope you had left... that _This. Could. Work._"

Molly had been remarkably quiet since entering the car. Her eyes were glossy, her features drooping slightly in disappointment, but there was a different air about her. Disheartened? Certainly. Angry? Perhaps.

_Embarrassed? Almost definitely._

"So... my dear," Jim continued, shifting out of his seat before sliding into the vacant spot beside her. "Do you believe me now?" He baited gently, slipping his hand over her own trembling one. She kept her doe-eyes focused out the window, but Jim _knew_ she was listening to his every word. "Do you see how heartless Sherlock Holmes really is? How he merely plays you... and everyone else in his life... for his own advantage? He won't notice you, poppet. He never has. Never will."

Molly released a shuddering, slow breath.

"But **I** do. I notice you, Molly Hooper. I notice your worth." Jim purred, tugging the mousy-thing a bit closer to him, as his arms slipped around behind her back. "You and I are more alike than you know." He grinned. "You're about ten years behind my progression, of course... the road is the same, you've just taken a detour. A meek, pointless little _detour_." He explained. "But I've been there. I used to be like you. Quiet, self-conscious... desperately trying to be heard, trying to be taken seriously... trying to be seen..."

She seemed to relax in his arms a bit as he continued to speak,

"I've been in your shoes, my dove, I have." Jim lulled, bumping his nose against her ear as he spoke. "There was a boy I admired when I was younger. He was everything I wasn't, though stupid by all accounts. Muscle and mass, not brains and brilliance." He scoffed. "And still, I tried. I tried to get noticed. I tried to impress him, to speak with him, to lure him. But he wouldn't have it. Carl just laughed at me... but... you best believe, luv, that I _stopped_ him laughing." His eyes darkened. "And now, **no one** laughs at me. They only beg me, proposition me, admire me."

Molly tensed again, and turned to look at Jim directly for the first time since she'd entered the car. "B-But... he... y-you said, um... you liked a... _boy_?" She asked as delicately as possible; her confusion and pain still evident on her soft features.

"Oh darling, don't be so quaint." Jim sighed, placing his finger beneath her chin before lifting her head up a bit higher. "I've evolved past gender. I don't see girls and boys, luv, I see _people_." Jim growled the last word, and wrapped his arms even tighter around Molly's small waist.

"And I see you. I see your delightful possibilities. Just think of how I could mold you... don't you want to evolve, pet?" The Irishman purred. "Don't you want to be like me, and get a bit of that respect you so sorely deserve, after years of snivelling servitude?"

He placed a gentle, light kiss on her cheek.

"...Yes." She whispered, already attempting to steel herself as she focused her attention out the window again.

Jim's lips twitched, "That's my girl, well done." Placing a hand on her knee, his fingers lightly ran across the bottom hem of her rather tight, black dress. "I'll give you confidence, for Christmas. I'll give you security, and anything else your little heart desires." He began. Reaching up, he grasped her jaw in hand, and forced her to look at him. "And all I ask in return is your undivided... unfaltering... devotion." He snarled, before crushing mouth against her own. Molly whimpered, and resisted – but Jim's grip was surprisingly strong, and his lips, tongue and teeth were relentless. He felt the young woman slowly begin to slack in his arms, and he chuckled lightly into her mouth as she began to submit to him. Finally, he pulled back; eyes powerful enough to bore a hole clean through her skull. "Understand, poppet?" He cooed gently, tagging on a mock pout.

She nodded, and allowed herself to be pulled up to rest against Jim's side; his arm still loosely around her shoulder – while his other hand grasped his phone.

"Home, Jeeves." He gestured toward the driver, with a manic giggle. "Daddy's had enough of this Christmas bollocks..." He turned to look down at Molly. "Besides, I've got _Mummy_ to mold now." He nudged her arm. "Lord knows _someone_ has to show her the ropes..."

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><p>AN: I dunno. Just what I imagined after the 'Christmas Scene' in Season 2 AsiB. I desperately want Molly to emerge with Moriarty xD


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